It’s me, that two-legged large being that puts a hand through your webs all too often.

It’s not that I mean to; after all, it’s not a pleasant sensation. I know how much time and effort it takes to make that web, and that you’re probably pretty tired after finishing it. However…you are in my garden, and sometimes you have built your home across the tomatoes that I have grown. I try to work around you, but it doesn’t always work out.

I don’t know what your realtor told you about me when you took up residence, but he was lying if he told you that folks like me didn’t exist. Don’t feel bad–mine lied to me too.

Me: Any poisonous spiders in this area?

Realtor: Nope, not at all.

Uh-huh…

Brown recluse

Wolf Spider

Black Widow

Garden spider

So…yeah.

Okay, I think I can come up with a plan that is mutually agreeable. Especially where these poisonous ones are concerned.

I will keep an eye out for you and your webs, and try to keep from walking through them. You, for your part, have to keep your webs out of areas where I normally walk. You have eight eyes–use them! Putting up webs across my path is just not a good idea. I won’t see them–they’re pretty transparent. If they weren’t, I don’t think you’d be a successful prey creature. Bright blue or rainbow would be just dumb, on your part.

I know you’re out there. Chances are good that I am never more than four feet from a spider in any situation. Dropping down in front of me or climbing any of my appendages would only lead to tears–and not for me. Your plans for that day could come to a very tragic end. A surprised human is not a pleasant thing for a tiny arachnid like yourself.

In other words, don’t draw my attention.

I will allow you in my home – that’s the big covered thing with all those delicious silverfish in it – as long as you don’t multiply into too large a population. If this happens, I do have to cull the herd. Keep your seed to yourself.

And the poop you leave under your web–that has to stop. Don’t be surprised that I spray your leavings with foul-smelling cleaner. You’ve been warned. Get a diaper.

By the way, the tolerance for your existence in the house goes only as far as me. Stay out of sight, and the other members of the house will not suck you up with a vacuum or swat you with paper. Tragic ending for you–makes no never mind to me. Sorry–but this is your warning, after all.

Eat silverfish, not humans. No biting.

If you see someone outside spraying around the house, make as fast a trip to the center of the yard that your legs can take you. He won’t spray there. You’ll last another day.

Okay–a lot to remember. But it would be worth your while. Keep this where all of your friends and neighbors can see it.

A last word: if you skitter across my bed or hang out inside my bathtub, that breaks all bargains.

2 Responses to An open letter to my eight-legged neighbors

A very reasonable and tolerant view of spiders! LOL I was thinking all the way through – what about the bathtub? That’s where they usually appear in my house! But you covered that in the last paragraph!